Silence

                                    

Silence is never nothingness.

      It never was.

It's full of confusing emotions,

  Which remain unexpressed.

  It's full of unspoken words,

 which make our throat bleed

Just like the sharp broken pieces

          Of mirror.

 It's full of unresolved mysteries,

 Tangled like numerous threads.

 It's full of an awkward madness,

   Beyond all the limitations,

    Weather known or unknown.

   Being comfortable with silence

       Is a rare art.

    Those who experience

  This uncomfortable comfort,

     Fall in love with silence,

     Where they experience

    The unexpressed emotions,

     Where they come across

      The unspoken words,

       Where they find

      The old new scars

   And the broken pieces of the soul,

     Where they untangle

     The threads of the past

       And use them

      To weave the future,

        Where they gain

   The miraculous power of madness.